Through a Glass, Darkly
by Elfhelm
Summary: Lucifer lives a life fragmented by Sam's refusal. There's a dichotomy here between raising an army to extinguish mankind and conversing with your intended human vessel. Set after The Ties That Bind.


**Title: **Through a Glass, Darkly  
**Author: **holydread / Elfhelm  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Series: **Supernatural  
**Pairing/Characters: **Lucifer, Sam.  
**Spoilers: **Season 5.  
**Summary: **Set after _The Ties That Bind__._ Lucifer lives a life fragmented by Sam's refusal.

* * *

During the millennia of his imprisonment, Lucifer learned patience. His rash actions in Heaven had only led to his defeat at the hands of his brother and he is not now eager to commit the same mistakes. He has spent lifetimes watching and studying the sins and failures of mankind from his secluded section of Hell and he knows that humanity's time is coming to a close – the end is tantalizingly near but still just out of reach. He remains confident because he has learned patience like no angel before him. Angels are action and wrath and judgement and he has become watchful and quiet and all the more deadly for it. Lucifer is patient and he will wait for Sam Winchester to accept him.

Some days, however, are more frustrating than others.

Everything human is simply so _slow_. He is settled in his new vessel and though the body belongs to him alone, it is nothing like what he had imagined. Nick's form strains to contain him and he must constantly heal it lest it fail him completely but even that would be acceptable if it weren't for this body's inherent weakness. Summoning War took more out of him than it should have. If he had the vessel that had been created for him, summoning the horsemen would be trivial, but now Lucifer must plod along like one of these creatures of mud and hate and suffer through tedious rituals in order to access his full power without destroying his human vessel. It is tiresome and beneath him, and if he sacrificed a few more souls than was strictly necessary for the summoning then at least the extra effort relieved some of the tension he has been feeling.

His days are spent urging his vessel to it's physical limits, readying for a war he knows has been long in the making. He pushes his will into Hell, his distaste for its inhabitants making his dealings with them short and distant. During his long exile, demons have started to look to him as he looks to God and instead of feeding his pride, the thought feels blasphemous and sickening. They are worse than the humans, a collective smear on the perfection of his Father's world and Lucifer looks forward to the day when he no longer needs them but for now – for now, they will fill a pit as well as any_(1)_.

He wants this whole conflict to be over, wants to hold his Father and his brothers accountable for his fate. He controls his fierce desire for vengeance, channels it into a dampened burn that runs through his veins and propels him forward with his plans, uncaring if _He_ already knows, has already planned for this happen. Because even if Lucifer is nothing more than chess piece to the Father he still loves, even though none of this has ever been his own idea, hurting Heaven, dwindling their numbers and confidence and destroying the humans the Host holds so dear is _good enough_.

Despite the drive within him that continually urges _action, destruction, faster, now!_, Lucifer offers his true vessel all the time in the world. The apocalypse isn't going anywhere without its general and Lucifer can afford to give Sam time to understand, to accept. He has always been absolute in his convictions and he trusts now in the pull of destiny that binds him to that speck of light in Sam Winchester.

And so Lucifer spends his days consumed with frustration but his nights are spent entirely differently.

Unable to locate his vessel, Lucifer waits for him to slip into the ethereal realm of unconsciousness. Once Sam's mind is unguarded by his brother's clever sigils, he is able to infiltrate Sam's dreams, even twist them to suit his purposes.

During these visits, he is only interested in making his vessel feel in control and so, when Lucifer conjures up images to make Sam feel at home, they invariably end up in curious, impersonal rooms that don't seem like any version of comfort that Lucifer knows.

The first few visits went about as well as he expected. Lucifer finds it easy in a way it should not be to understand his vessel's moods and predict his reactions and he knows that this is just one more indication of how trapped they really are.

Last time, Lucifer spent the entire night sitting silently in the darkened motel room while his vessel pretended he didn't exist. Sam's anger always channelled itself into action – something which Lucifer respects – and so his vitriol was quickly exhausted.

Tonight, however, Sam is waiting for him.

The room looks exactly as it had in his previous visits, anonymous furnishings lit only by the glare of neon that the curtains don't even attempt to block.

His vessel is standing in the open space before the bed when he arrives. Lucifer steps forward, relieved that he will not have to tolerate another night of silence. As he smiles and tries to express his pleasure, his vessel's face twists into an expression of hatred and before he can so much as curse this body's clumsy slowness, there is the sharp slide of a blade slipping between his ribs, plunging upward toward his heart.

Lucifer gasps against the unfamiliar pain and surprise and stumbles a step backward, falling into the hard-backed chair behind him. He reaches with increasingly numbing fingers to pull the dagger from his chest, dropping it with a muffled thump on the carpeted floor. He takes a deep breath, filling neglected lungs with oxygen and while it is only the work of seconds to heal this body of the damage, his mind still reels from the shock.

He should have expected this. He did expect it, he _understands_ Sam and his fury-driven responses, but he did not think – not _here_. Out there in the day, yes, but not here in the dark of Sam's own mind.

For a moment, his power flashes out of the tenuous control this vessel lends him. The room goes cold and the sizzle of electricity buzzes in his ears. Lucifer takes a second breath, coalesces his Grace and regroups.

He looks up and Sam's expression is terrified. His eyes scan the small room like he's trapped and Lucifer's anger drains away.

"I should have known. You're not even really here," Sam's voice is bitter but his eyes still flit from Lucifer to the rest of the room.

He's wrong, though. This may be in his vessel's mind, but that doesn't mean it's not _real_. It doesn't mean that Sam's hatred doesn't hurt.

Lucifer stands and moves to grip Sam's shoulder, holding him still when Sam tries to jerk away, "I am here, Sam."

His vessel holds his gaze for a moment and bites out a bitter laugh, "What, you're not going to smite me for trying to kill you?"

Lucifer sighs, suddenly tired, "You know I'd never hurt you."

Sam's laughter takes on an edge of hysteria and he steps away from Lucifer's hand, sinking down on the bed.

Lucifer gives him a moment and turns his attention to the dagger Sam had brought with him to this place. He picks it up and examines the blade, the traces of blood disappearing as he does.

"This wouldn't have worked," he mentions, looking at Sam over his shoulder.

Sam shrugs, eyes not leaving his hands, "Had to try."

"Yes, I imagine you did," Lucifer hands the dagger back and pulls over his vacated chair, sitting so close to Sam that their knees touch. "Sam?"

His vessel looks up, fearful and angry. In the dim light of the motel room, however, Lucifer can see how defeated Sam looks. Exhaustion is etched into the set of his jaw and the darkness under his eyes. It's surprisingly disconcerting.

The silence drags on. Lucifer leans forward, "How are you?"

He gets a scoff for his effort, "I'm tired. What's the matter, afraid I'm going to wear out your vessel?"

Lucifer doesn't reply, just throws Sam a sideways glance because what can he really say to that?

"You drag me here, night after night, and it's not sleep, it's just – it's just fucking mind games and I'm exhausted!"

Oh. _Oh._

"Sam, I'm so sorry," Lucifer reaches for Sam's hand and this time he isn't rebuked.

He didn't actually mean to keep Sam from resting, didn't realize that bringing him here would prevent his mind from true sleep. Lucifer's Grace flares hot with his annoyance at human frailty and his power leaks out of his body in order to heal Sam before he consciously calls on it.

He leans back in his chair, letting go of Sam's hand, "There. I _am_ sorry, Sam. It won't happen again."

Sam raises an eyebrow, "You're not going to stalk me every night?"

Lucifer smiles at that, "You'll be rested when you wake."

There's a sigh and Sam buries his face in his hands, the dagger forgotten on the mattress beside him.

"You could tell me where you are," Lucifer suggests softly.

Sam snorts a laugh and turns his head to stare blankly at the closed curtains on the window.

"Never."

"Okay," Lucifer stands and squeezes Sam's shoulder, "Maybe tomorrow night."

He looks Sam over once more and silently forgives him for the murder attempt. With a weary sigh, he turns and steps out of his vessel's mind. He'll see him again soon and to be honest, Lucifer's looking forward to it. Now that Sam has all that violence out of his system, he might begin to listen.

Ever since Sam released him from Hell, Lucifer has known that Sam will say yes to him. They're destined to win this thing together and the more time he spends explaining that to Sam, the more he thinks he may be all right with that.

Sam reminds him so much of himself that its easy to forget they're not the same. Sam is just one of the billions of creatures who crawl this world and pollute it with their very nature and yet Lucifer cannot damn him like the others..

Lucifer's life since the Pit has been full of methodical, mortal machinations. Filled with demons and the constant heavy threat of fate and Michael, but here with Sam he feels much more like himself. Here, he is in control, he can have a conversation with someone who is not a _demon_.

Sometimes, Lucifer even thinks that he will miss Sam when he's gone.

* * *

(1) "Tut, tut, good enough to toss, food for powder, food for powder. / They'll fill a pit as well as better." Shakespeare. _King Henry IV, Part I_. 4.3. 65-67.


End file.
